


it was just a joke

by padthot (orphan_account)



Category: Split (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Everyone is dense except for Barry, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Smut, Writer Casey au, pray for barry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2019-11-29 08:56:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18220979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/padthot
Summary: When childhood friends Casey and Kevin (in the form of Barry and Dennis) are rained in at a cabin, Barry makes a joke he comes to regret. He knew better than to tease Casey about her writing, let alone essentially dare her into doing something, but by the time he realised his mistake, it was already too late. Now he has a job to do and several bleach showers to take, while Dennis and Casey make googly eyes at each other and pretend they aren't.





	1. Barry

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nyctigamous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyctigamous/gifts).



> for my favourite bastard, who came up with this brilliant idea and gave me the honour of writing it. <3

It had only been a joke.

     Days spent in the cabin had even made it sound like a good joke. A throwback to Mary Shelley, bless her gothic heart (and her husband’s) since she’d been trapped inside by the rain when she thought up _The Modern Prometheus._ It hadn’t even been as contrived—there was no competition to write a short story, no _anything_ —yet Casey had steeled herself and written something far more terrifying that Frankenstein’s monster.

     Smut.

     Erotica.

      _Pornography._

     Whatever you wanted to call it, it’s what she’d written. It would have been funny to think about—she really had taken his teasing to heart, had been determined to prove she was just as filthy as anyone else could be—if only she hadn’t written about Dennis.

     “Davis,” Casey continued, unaware of Barry’s very real suffering, “is infatuated with Cathy. You’ll want some of Patricia’s pearls to clutch when you read it.”

     Barry swallows something thick and looks to the exercise book filled with Casey’s clean handwriting and filthy thoughts.

     Why did he have to make that _stupid_ joke?

* * *

 

“ _Davis grabbed her wrist, his eyes aflame with the promise of pain turned to pleasure. He would write himself into her skin with the press of his fingers. He would ravish her and she would let him, wanting nothing more than to become his possession. The weight of his want would crush her, leave her gasping like a woman drowned. Unable to take it any longer, he pushed her against the wall, his cock like hot lead against her thigh. “You’re dirty,” he breathed each word against the expanse of her naked neck, “I’ve got to…_ get you off. _”’_ Jesus Christ, Casey. _”_

     “What’s wrong?” Casey chirped, clearly proud of herself. “Too hot for you to handle?”

     Barry shook his head, “I don’t want to read about Dennis trying to sleep with y—”

     “Davis,” Casey corrected. “Davis and Cathy. They’re totally original characters.”

     “You’ve got to be kid—”

     “Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely a coincidence.”

     In the back of Barry’s mind, he could hear Dennis mumbling in agreement.

     ‘ _It’s unrealistic. No one talks like that._ ’

     ‘ _You’re as dense as a brick wall and half as helpful._ ’

     ‘ _What?_ ’

     “If you see anyone in my prose, it’s your imagination,” Casey looked at him with mock concern, “Maybe that’s something you should tell Dr Fletcher about.”

     “About you writing dirty stories about Dennis?”

     Barry felt a bit hysterical.

     “Davis.”

     “Davis?” Barry swore under his breath before he continued reading what she’d written out loud, “‘ _Cathy arched into him, her arms pinned above her by her own choice as he explored her body with calloused hands. She had thought about him for so long, had hoped the animalistic glint his eyes caught whenever he watched her would unleash itself before too long. He wanted her and even if he only planned to use her, she would never complain. Her body was a temple she used to worship him, her fingers between her legs nothing more than a sacrificial offering. “Yes, Davis, please--" He cut her off with a firm slap to her rear, "Let's put that mouth to better use._ " I’m going to be sick.”

     “Virgin.”

     “Dennis writer.”

     ‘ _It’s clearly a work of fiction,_ ’ Dennis said, a bit more strained than Barry was comfortable with, ‘ _stop reading into it._ ’

     ‘ _Are you actually stupid or is this something you worked out with her?_ ’

     ‘ _No. You’re acting like a pervert._ ’

     “Oh, no, no, no. Not you, out of _everyone,_ you’re not the one who gets to call me a pervert!”

     “You are acting a bit like one. You’re trying to make my fictional work about real people.”

     Barry slammed the exercise book closed as he jumped to his feet. He looked at Casey with his eyes, Dennis with his mind, and realised the pair of them weren’t in cahoots at all.

     They were just that fucking stupid.

     It was nearly _obscene._

     “I’m going to think about this.”

     “I knew you liked it, but I didn’t think you liked it enough to want to be _alone_ with it—”

     The exercise book landed on Barry’s recently abandoned chair as he stomped off. Somehow, he was going to rid himself of the images now imprinted on his psyche.

     After that, he was going to do something about the two idiots and their pining. If it killed him—and it very much might kill his soul if he were forced to think about it much longer—he would force them both to admit what they were clearly hiding.

     ‘ _Might wanna take a cold shower,_ ’ Dennis chimed with a chuckle, ' _pervert._ ’

     Barry looked down at himself in horror.

     Yes, a positively icy shower first, and then the plotting.


	2. Casey

Barry’s reaction had been more than Casey could ever have hoped for. His horror fuelled her, gifted her a sense of empowerment she had never thought possible, and it had taken all her energy (and then some) to keep the smug look off her face.

     It served him right for making fun of her and questioning her ability to write. Writing was only a hobby, something she did to pass the hours, but she had taken to heart his disbelief that she could be… saucy. Maybe she had taken it a little far by using such obvious names, but the look on his face when he read about how Davis’ ‘ _ engorged member trembled within Cathy, _ ’ or how it ‘ _ pulsated _ ’ when he finished was worth it.

     She fell back onto her bed with a laugh. Really, it was almost too easy. It was the easiest thing she had ever done. In fact, it had been downright fun to write about the forbidden passion between Cathy and Dennis— _ Davis _ .

     Casey frowned; while she had given the characters similar names, she hadn’t intended to write them as being overly similar. Aside from Casey’s height and hair colour, she had nothing in common with Cathy. And Dennis? The only similarity was his shaved head, his height, his cool tone.

     Maybe his chest; he’d always had a nice chest. Casey wasn’t  _ stupid _ .

     And maybe his hands. His hands were different to Barry’s hands, or Kevin’s, or even Patricia’s or Luke’s. They were… larger, firmer. Rougher.

     And, she supposed, she had used a mannerism or two. The way he ran his hand over his head when he was stressed, trying to compose himself, or trying not to laugh. The way he licked his lips to taste a thought before he expressed it. The way his eyes darted over Casey, how they lingered on her throat, breasts, and hips; it didn’t  _ mean  _ anything (he’d done that ever since they were teenagers!).

     Casey shifted, suddenly feeling awkward. So what if she had written a few extra similarities between Dennis and Davis? It was all part of the craft. A creative process. Nothing to get upset about.

     (Would he be rough and commanding or gentle and pleading? Desperate, no matter which it was.)

     With a start, Casey shoved herself off the bed and to her feet. She squeezed her thighs together for absolutely no reason at all, paced the narrow room, then threw herself back to the bed.

     It was Barry’s fault. He’d gotten inside her head.

     Barry needed to be punished.

     With more flourish than was strictly required, Casey snatched the notebook, tore it open, and flicked to a new blank section. There were still pages left but there wouldn’t be for long.

* * *

 

“Bartholomew.”

     Casey slipped through the open door of Kevin’s room in time to watch Barry wince.

     “What are you up to?”

     “Why would I be up to something?”

     Barry looked insulted that he would need to explain. He’d told her time and time again his name was “ _ Just Barry, you last season tramp, _ ” but she held firm. Even if he knew she was up to something, it wouldn’t stop her from doing that something.

     “It’s still raining,” Casey mused. “I thought I’d keep you company.”

     “You’re a dangerous woman, Casey Cooke.”

     “Thank you,” Casey smiled. “I thought I’d… read to you.”

     Barry lurched in three directions.

     “Babygirl, I really think you proved—”

     “Don’t you like it?” Casey asked. “I wrote it just for you. There’s a new character.”

     “Oh my God. I really don’t think— _ oh shut up, you pothole. _ ”

     Something passed over Casey’s skin, cooling and heating her all at once. Obviously, she knew Dennis would be  _ around _ , but now she  _ knew  _ he was around, she felt… odd.

     Shy.

     “Oh it’s, uh, if you’re, uh, busy…”

     For a flash, there was wickedness Casey had never seen in Barry before. His eyes caught the light, shiny and full of ideas, as his frown became a crooked smirk.

     “You know what? I’d love to hear you, honey,” he patted the bed beside him. “Come on, get settled in. I wanna hear those dulcet tones.”

     Casey knew it was a terrible idea, but she would never hear the end of it if she left. It was a game of chicken, nothing more or less, and she  _ had  _ to emerge victoriously.

     She sat on the edge of the bed as far from Barry as she could. He gave her a look and slapped his hand against it again in a quiet request for her to move closer. Hesitant and full of suspicion, Casey complied. Barry crowded her, knocking his shoulder against hers as he inspected the book in her hands.

     “So,” he said.

     “So.”

     “Are you going to—” Barry scrunched his face in frustration, his attention diverted inward. “Sorry, Davis is—”

     “Dennis.”

     Barry smiled and Casey rethought all the choices she had made in life that led her to that moment. She cleared her throat:

     “‘ _ Davis pried Cathy’s legs apart and slid between the gap. He leaned against her, c-cock pressed firmly between her lips as he hovered over her. _ ’”

     Barry had found a way to both pale and blush all at once. He moved back slightly, nose scrunched with awkward mortification despite his attempt to hide it. It emboldened Casey, who cleared her throat and spoke in a rasping voice.

     “‘ _ “Davis!” Cathy cried, scratching at his back. He throbbed against her in reply, but there was a promise in his eyes; that wouldn’t be the last time he made her scream that night. Impatient as always, Davis tore her shirt off her body—without ripping any buttons—then folded it neatly next to them— _ ’”

     “Casey—!”

     “Barry, I’m  _ reading, _ ” Casey scolded. “Uh… ‘ _...then folded it neatly next to them. He moved down her body until his face was pressed against her heat. He pulled them to the side and l-licked her long and slow, then drew back to fix her with a hard look. “These are filthy,” he said, “take them off.”’ _ ’”

     Barry held his head in his hands.

     “‘ _ They were interrupted by a knock at the door. Cathy closed her legs and Davis covered her with a blanket just before their roommate, Larry, stuck his nose in— _ ’”

     “WHAT?!”

     “‘ _ —and asked if they were playing tennis. Cathy was confused; surely he knew she would tell him if she were playing tennis, but Larry had always read into things he shouldn’t. Thankfully, Dennis told Larry he was a huge pervert and kicked him out before kneeling back between Cathy’s spread leg— _ ’ what?”

     Barry’s grin had returned. Casey feared for her life.

     “You said ‘Dennis.’”

     “No I didn’t?”

     “Yes, you did,” Barry replied, then: “ _ Yes she did, you bed-bug. _ ”

     “You’re reading into things,” Casey sighed.

     The room was too warm suddenly.

     “Do me a favour?” Barry asked.

     Casey stood, immediately on guard.

     “What?”

     “Read it to Dennis. Later,” Barry smiled. “Since the two of you say it’s fiction then it shouldn’t be a problem.”

     It was a bad idea, but letting Barry get one over on her would be even worse. He was unrelenting when it came to being right and the only way to shut him up was to beat him.

     “Fine,” Casey snapped. “Later.”

     As she walked away, she told herself she was making a smart decision.


	3. Dennis I

_ ‘You thick-headed, hollow-brained, idiot of a buffoon! It’s literally a story about  _ “Davis”  _ drilling  _ “Cathy”  _ in bed while  _ “Larry”  _ watches. You cannot, in any universe, tell me you BELIEVE this isn’t about you!’ _ ’

     Dennis had maintained quite an impressive silence following the numerous revelations Casey had given him. For a start, he had never considered the possibility of incorporating cleanliness into sex—he’d always preferred one of those things to mean  _ clean  _ and the other  _ positively, nastily, grossly and disgustingly  _ **_filthy_ ** —but now the idea had been planted, he couldn’t say he wasn’t  _ curious. _

     Having a woman—no one in particular—crawling on the floor at his feet, naked but for her long, dark hair—which resembled no one in particular—covering her curves. He could scold her, demand she turn away from him and rise to her feet whilst scrubbing with her hands so he could touch her. Would her eyes, so brown and impossibly large—again, a matter of preference that was similar to no one Dennis  _ knew  _ in  _ person _ —go wide when he slipped a finger inside of her? Would she shake and call his name if he berated her for the mess between her legs, or when he lathed his tongue over her and muttered on how it was the best way for him to clean her?

     Barry hit him in the face with the back of one trembling hand.

_ ‘Keep your thoughts to yourself!’ _

_ ‘I dunno what you’re talking about.’ _

     Much to what would surely be Barry’s chagrin, Dennis hadn’t noticed the blow at all.

     Barry groaned and Dennis took the opportunity to cross his legs. Regardless of how late it was or how deeply asleep the others were, he didn’t fancy hearing any of their reactions to how hard he’d gotten over C—over a new idea.

_ ‘You’re a fucking idiot.’ _

     Dennis sighed.

_ ‘And I,’  _ Barry collapsed into his chair with a sigh,  _ ‘am exhausted. I told Casey you’d listen to her story with her.’ _

_ ‘Why?’ _

_ ‘Because you will, you trollop,’  _ Barry said with a wave of his hand.  _ ‘Because you think there’s nothing between you two and there aren't similarities between you and Davis—’ _

_ ‘It’s fiction,’  _ Dennis interrupted, ‘ _ and people don’t talk like that. _ ’

     For an instant, Barry looked as though he were ready to beat Dennis to a brutal death with a shoe.

     For that instant alone, Dennis felt as though Barry might actually achieve such a thing.

_ ‘Go, get out, fuck off, trot over to our fair maiden and listen to her tales of Davis and the Very Lengthy Blowjob. She might follow it up with Larry Cries in the Corner While Cathy Rides Davis’ Face.’ _

     Dennis twitched, moved half out of his chair, then looked back to Barry.

_ ‘Did she really—’ _

_ ‘No, she didn’t write those, you—’  _ Barry removed his shoe.  _ ‘Get  _ out  _ of here!’ _

     Dennis didn’t need to be told twice.

_ ‘Wait—’  _ Barry flew from his chair and towards the Light,  _ ‘I’m going to try and reason with her one more time. Then, I’m going to crawl into the dark and bury myself in so much of it I won’t be able to hear myself think, let alone you two f—’ _

     Dennis shoved him into the Light before he could finish his sentence.

* * *

 

Casey was seated on the end of her bed when they entered the room. Dennis winced at the way Barry opened the door whilst knocking—thus rendering the knocking useless—but kept his silence about it. There was something electric in the air, a kind of static which raised the hair on their arms and eased his mind.

     It had nothing to do with Casey, though. Sure, she was dressed differently—in a skirt which definitely wasn’t hers, with a loose fitted shirt that looked familiar enough for Dennis to bite back an appreciative snarl (which, of course, meant nothing), and her hypnotisingly soft hair pulled into a hair-tie on one side—but being dressed differently wasn’t  _ that  _ different.

_ ‘Wiring,’  _ Dennis mumbled.

     Barry replied under his breath with something about Dennis’ being loose. 

     “Casey,” Barry said.

     Casey’s face twitched into something like disappointment for a fraction of a breath.

     “Before I go, I wanted to…” Barry sat them on the edge of the bed so their legs touched Casey’s. “If you wanna call this off… I don’t wanna push you into something you’re not ready to do. You could just talk to him, tell him how you feel—”

     “Huh?”

_ ‘You’re reading into it,’  _ Dennis tsked.

     “I  _ know  _ Davis is Dennis and Cathy is you, so—”

     “Davis is nothing like Dennis,” Casey interjected, her lips twitched in mischief. “Davis  _ likes  _ being dirty.”

     Barry choked.

     Dennis mumbled to himself; he really  _ didn’t  _ like being dirty.

     “Davis is the dirtiest, filthiest man ever to be written,” she continued, “and Cathy is into some weird hand stuff. Why would you think  _ I’m  _ like that?”

     Barry coughed, hard, but Dennis couldn’t feel anything in their throat.

     “You know what I think? I think you all say Dennis is the pervert when it’s actually you, Larry.”

     “YOU JUST CALLED ME LARRY!”

     “No, I didn’t?” Casey sighed. “You’re projecting your desires onto me and it’s—”

     Barry covered her face with both hands, a wild look in his eyes. Dennis had much to say but was far too interested in the sudden turn of events to voice any of it.

     He was sure Barry knew he was on thin ice anyway.

     “Babygirl, you’re killin’ me. You’re sending me into the early grave this  _ baboon  _ is digging for me. I beg you, on my knees—which I would be on if I could be—to have mercy and just… let things go the way they’ll go.”

     Casey nodded and Barry released her.

     “Anything for you, Larry.”

     Like that, Barry exited the Light and shoved Dennis into it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey kids, i'm just... going to go right ahead and bump the rating up to explicit. you've been warned :)


	4. Dennis II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for your support and love! i hope you enjoy this, even though it didn't end quite like how i imagined... happy reading!
> 
> (and yes nyctigamous i came for u with this... just a lil 👀)

Barry had sat too close to Casey, which left Dennis  _ far  _ too close to her. The sudden brightness of the outside world had left him partially disoriented and the sight and smell of her was dizzying to say the least. He had the urge to move away, to add some distance so the two of them could breathe, but an annoyed voice behind his eye taunted him for even considering it.

_ ‘Don’t read so much into it,’  _ Barry sniffed.

     “Shut up, Larry,” Dennis mumbled.

     Casey made an odd noise and Dennis’ eyes snapped towards her. She was giggling.

     Not laughing, snorting, chuckling, or chortling;  _ giggling. _

     Barry’s voice no longer reached him and eventually went away. The world was eclipsed by the quirk of her lips, the pull of her cheeks, the barely-there lines of her eyes as she grinned and the kiss of a blush in her cheeks. The force of her pulled at the waters he’d found himself lost in, forcing him further and further out to see until he could no longer touch the ground.

     Swept away, he thought. It was dangerous but then again, Patricia had always teased him about his… thoughts, which were equally as dangerous. Surely this was no different? While he (and all of them) had known Casey for the longest time and considered her their closest friend, he still  _ was  _ a beautiful woman. In fact, if he hadn’t felt a twinge of something it would have been an insult to her.

     Dennis wouldn’t want to insult her. He liked Casey.

     That must have been it. It explained everything.

     He wasn’t attracted to her, he was just being polite.

     “Are you…” Casey trailed off as she looked to her exercise book. “Barry said you wanted to hear me read.”

     “I do,” Dennis said.

     “Are you sure?” Casey asked. “It’s racy.”

     Dennis nodded.

     “I have a filthier mind than Barry gives me credit for,” she continued. “It’s  _ graphic. _ ”

     Dennis didn’t shift even though he longed to do just that. He licked his lips and offered a stern nod instead, “I will support you.”

     “You won’t make fun of me?”

     “Will you do voices for each character?”

     Casey shook her head vigorously.

     “Then I won’t make fun of you.”

     “How about sound effects? Instead of saying, uh…” she flipped through the exercise book and scanned a page, “instead of saying, ‘ _ Cathy writhed on the mattress, pinned like a butterfly by Davis’ nimbled tongue. She moaned, loud and unbridled, her breathing now coming in short, quick pants, _ ’ I could say: ‘ _ Cathy writhed on the mattress, pinned like a butterfly by Davis’ nimble tongue— _ ’”

     To Dennis’ surprise, Casey threw herself back onto the bed, her eyes closed as her back arched from the mattress. She moaned, the sound a rumble in her chest which echoed through her throat as it sought escape through her pouting red lips. One hand clenched in the sheets as the other slapped the bed, and she finished with a long, hard sigh.

     “Would you make fun of that?” she asked, as though she hadn’t just given Dennis the most painful erection of his life.

     He kept his face impassive and non-reactionary.

     “It doesn’t sound real,” he lied.

     Casey frowned, “How would you know?”

     “How would  _ you? _ ” he countered.

     “I know things. A lot of things!” When Dennis didn’t respond, Casey flapped the notebook in front of his face. “I even wrote them down!”

     Dennis snatched the book and flipped through it, “It’s only half full.”

     “So?”

     He caught the word  _ penetrated  _ and had a momentary blackout but came back to himself shortly after.

     “It’s not even half filled,” he said in what he hoped was a casual tone.

     “It’s not the size but the quality,” Casey snapped, then huffed, “I thought  _ you  _ would know that.”

     The book snapped shut and Dennis’ eyes bore a hole straight through hers. It was one thing to hear Barry insult him, but another entirely for Casey to—to _imply—to say_ that he wasn’t—wasn’t _appropriately equipped_.

     “And how would  _ you  _ know  _ that? _ ”

     “Know what?” Casey smiled. “That Davis’ penis is bigger?”

     “How big?”

     Dennis decided he didn’t like Davis.

     “Nine-and-a-half inches.”

     “Casey, have you measured that out? Do you know how long that is?”

     “Yes,” Casey replied, “it’s the size of Davis’ di—”

     “No one’s is that big.”

     Casey’s eyes flit down to Dennis’ crotch. She couldn’t see it from her angle flat on the bed, but his body had quite enjoyed listening to her reenactment.

     “My eyes are up here,” he said, voice dry but slightly desperate.

     She looked up at him, saw something that made the lights dance behind her eyes, then picked up the book.

     “You can lay down if you want,” she said.

     “I’ll sit.”

     “Lay down, idiot.”

     Frowning, Dennis laid awkwardly on the bed. He felt too large, like his shoulders were intruding and would get him in trouble for taking up too much room. He crossed his arms over his chest but it felt even stranger, though there weren’t many other options.

     “Are you sure you want me to read it?”

     Dennis didn’t know, but he said yes all the same.

     “Tell me if you’re uncomfortable,” Casey said. “I’ve done a good job so… so it’s going to be like watching porn with me while I… narrate what’s happening.”

     Another dark and previously hidden desire bobbed its way to the surface: watching silent pornography while Casey _someone_ whispered narration into his ear, while she eased herself over his cock and— 

     His thoughts were cut off by a deep, toe-curling moan.

     Dennis sat up, looked at Casey’s found and found nothing but amusement.

     “ _ ‘Cathy moaned as she stretched around his intrusion. It burned in the best of ways, filling a hole she never knew she—’ _ ”

     “She didn’t know she had a…” Dennis didn’t know  _ what  _ to call it—vagina? pussy? gaping axe wound? Vaghalla?—when Casey was involved, so he settled for gesturing towards her crotch instead. “Seems unrealistic.”

     “What? No, she knows she has a vagina,” Casey replied. “It’s a metaphorical hole.”

     Dennis stared at her, unsure of how to respond.

     “One inside her chest.”

     He sat up, watched Casey’s eyes twinkle when he turned to hover over her. Usually, Dennis kept a small measuring tape on his keyring, but Barry hadn’t pocketed his keys before leaving the Light and he was forced to make a general estimate.

     “He must be bigger,” Dennis said as his hands moved to hover over Casey’s crotch and heart, “if he’s going to reach Cathy’s heart from her vagina—” that word he whispered, cheeks flushed with  _ talking  _ about it in front of her, “—he must be bigger than nine-and-a-half inches.”

     He looked down at Casey who was giving him the strangest look.

     “It would kill her,” he said seriously, then: “Casey, have you written snuff porn?”

     Her face scrunched in confusion, then frustration, before opening into relaxed humour.

     “You’re changing the subject.”

     Dennis shook his head, “I’m not.”

     “You are,” Casey insisted, propping herself up on her elbows. “Am I making you feel uncomfortable?”

     Dennis frowned; a lot of things made him feel uncomfortable (namely his tight trousers, especially at that moment), but Casey wasn’t one of them.

     “Do you like my story?”

     “I haven’t heard it,” Dennis lied.

     Casey’s eyebrows nearly levitated off her face, “Yes you have. I told Barry.”

     “We’re not the same,” Dennis tried weakly. He knew that wasn’t what she meant.

     “I know you were listening,” Casey continued. “Which bit did you like the most? When Davis slapped her butt, or when Cathy deepthroat—”

     “ _ Casey. _ ”

     Casey stopped talking and Dennis ran a hand over his scalp. They both knew better than to have a discussion like this together; Casey knew how weak he was.

     Surely she had seen the looks he gave her, noticed the way he lingered like the smell of sex wherever she went. He was weak, desperately weak, and their friendship was too important for him to ruin.

     No,  _ Casey  _ was too important. It didn’t matter how much she meant to them, how accepting and kind she was. It went beyond that.

     Casey, as a person, was too important to frighten away. He wouldn’t give into his darker urges and hold her  _ hand  _ or smell her  _ hair  _ or sit where she’d been sitting or something— _ especially  _ not without her consent.

     “Dennis,” Casey matched his gravelly tone, but it wasn’t in jest. There was something rough in the way she said his name, how her tongue caught behind her teeth midway and her lips parted and rolled and  _ moved  _ near the end.

     They looked at each other for a long moment. His hands still hovered over her, she was still propped up.

     “I like it,” Dennis whispered. “You have talent.”

     “Would you… like to hear more? Or…” Casey licked her lips. “It might be boring, hearing me read it out.”

     “No, I like to listen.”

     “I could…” Casey shifted up, brushed herself against his hands, electrocuting Dennis with the brief contact. “I could make it more interesting?”

     He wanted to reply but couldn’t. Really, he knew he should leave, but her lips and sounds and words and thoughts and  _ everything  _ about her kept him frozen to the spot.

     “It’s… Uh…” she turned a deep scarlet, not with embarrassment but exertion. “I’ll show you.”

     Dennis nodded; sometimes it was better to show than to tell. Isn’t that what all the writers said?

     “O-Okay, uh… uh, just… I need you to… lay down again. I’m… I’m going to read further ahead.”

     Confused, Dennis laid down. He wasn’t sure why he needed to—if she were going to stand and perform with hand gestures he would see her better sitting up—but he didn’t want to get in her way. She knew what she was doing (even though she didn’t seem to agree with that sentiment, judging by the look on her face).

     Casey cleared her throat, flipped through to the end of the exercise book, then placed a hand on Dennis’ thigh.

     Dennis made a small noise.

     “‘ _ As they laid on the bed, Cathy let her mind wander. She hadn’t been a serious writer for long, but her fantasies had kept her warm for years. Davis, her best friend— _ ’” she paused to look at him and Dennis felt a pleasant twinge in his metaphorical hole, “‘ _ —had always been there for her, so when Larry suggested she read to him she felt embarrassed and excited. What had started as a joke to put Larry in his place had opened up possibilities for her. There was a chance that, if she got the right feeling as she read, she might finally be able to tell him how she felt. _

_ “‘Not that she’d known  _ how  _ she felt for long, but Larry’s annoying pushing had made her think about it more than usual. The fear of losing Davis disappeared and she knew that, even if he didn’t feel the same, things wouldn’t change between them. All she needed was a chance, one moment to see if he felt the same spark of want, lust, and love, and she would be happy. _

_ “‘So as Davis laid beside her, she placed one hand on his thigh. He looked at her from behind his pristine glasses, his eyes unreadable and hard. Cathy’s voice felt different to her as she touched him, as though it wasn’t quite her own. She squeezed his leg—’”  _ Casey squeezed Dennis’ leg, “ _ ‘—and moved her hand higher, past his hip to his stomach—’”  _ Casey did just that,  _ “‘and let it rest on his stomach. An unspoken question only Davis could answer. If he moved her hand away, she would flip to another section of the book and read to him, pretending she hadn’t orchestrated an entire section to get into his pants and heart. If he welcomed her touch though, she would trust him; she would make things awkward by describing all the filthy things she wants to do to him, because as clean as Davis is, Cathy knew he could be downright  _ dirty  _ if he wanted to be.’” _

     Casey paused and looked to the hand she’d placed on Dennis’ stomach. His muscles contracted, lungs working overtime to compensate for the lack of oxygen the now stiflingly hot room held.

     He wasn’t stupid. He knew there was more to the story than he’d initially allowed himself to believe, and he’d only ignored the very obvious similarities as it was  _ impossible  _ for someone like Casey to ever seen him in any way even remotely romantic or sexual. It had only been a joke to annoy Barry, hadn’t it? It hadn’t been real, hadn’t been so within his grasp.

     Casey moved her hand away with a small sigh and flipped through the book, “‘ _ Davis thrust into her mouth with an alarmin— _ ’”

     “Casey.”

     She stopped but kept her eyes on the page in front of her, “We don’t have to talk about it. It’s just a story.”

     His heart sank, “Is it?”

     She didn’t respond.

     “It wasn’t… real?” he asked. “You’re not—”

     “No, it’s, I’m—I wasn’t—I  _ do,  _ but I don’t want things to be—you  _ don’t  _ and that’s—that’s really okay, it is, you don’t have to—I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

     “I’m not uncomfortable,” Dennis snapped.

     “Yes, you are.”

     “No, I’m not.”

     “Dennis—”

     “ _ Casey. _ ”

     She looked at him then, her face alight with a thousand emotions he couldn’t begin to fathom. He released the sheet he hadn’t known he was fisting and touched her face, carefully and hesitantly, ready to move away at the slightest rebuff. But Casey didn’t reject him. She moved her cheek into his palm and closed her eyes, lips catching around his name once again.

     “Am I in your story?” he asked.

     Casey nodded and he felt the anxiety at having potentially inserted himself unnecessarily into her work release.

     “Am I Larry?”

     Casey’s eyes snapped open, confused by his deadpan question, and she moved to slap his shoulder in jest. He caught her wrist and pulled her over him, rolling them over the bed until she was pinned to the mattress beneath him. Her lips had parted, made a small  _ O  _ shape, and her fingers gripped and pulled his biceps towards her.

     Dennis didn’t think about how wrong it was to taint her or how terrible things would be if he scared her away from them. He just acted, leaning in to brush his lips against hers until he felt her arching into him.

     His arms snaked around her back, gathered her like a pillow sought on a lonely night to his chest. He kissed her hard, sloppy and reckless, sipped on the taste of her sighs and feasted on the quiet moan of his name from her throat.

     He kissed her until she was breathless and his own temples throbbed with the lack of oxygen. Moved along her jaw and to her neck as he recovered, only to have the air knocked out of him once again when she pushed off the mattress and pulled at her shirt.

     “Are you sure—”

     Casey kissed him; she was sure.

     Her hands were everywhere, touching and feeling and pushing and pulling. She left invisible bruises across his back, marks he would feel for the rest of his life but never tell a soul about. She possessed him, marked him with each touch and kiss, rolled him like a bundle of old blankets over the bed before he flipped her back over and covered her with himself.

     She was naked beneath him, wet and half spent as she clenched around his fingers. Panting into his mouth, forcing herself to keep her eyes open as his thumb rubbed circles over her clit.

     He watched her, in awe of her and wondering, partly, if he were living up to what she’d written. Not that he would ask—no, Dennis would just have to practice until he knew he was better than she’d expected.

     It took two tries (one from Casey and the other Dennis) to get the condom on. Her shaking hands had torn the tip, rendered it useless, before she gripped his length and jerked him nearly to the end of his rope. He’d bucked into her palm, mouth agape against her throat. By the time he had his senses again she was trying to tear open the second packet with her teeth and he’d barely saved it from her trembling efforts.

     She gasped when he pushed inside her.

     He kissed her cheek, her temples, her forehead.

     She held his back in an embrace, her legs tangled in his as he started to move.

_ “Dennis—” _

     He finished first and rutt against her like a teenager. She smiled, content, but made no complaint when he settled between his legs and explored her with his tongue. It tasted different to what he’d thought, sweeter but no saccharine, and she came with her thighs squeezing his face and his name on her tongue.

     When her tremors stopped, Dennis laid his head on her stomach. He wanted to feel guilt and shame, to relish in the self-flagellation of his own perversions, but the hand in his wouldn’t let him. The leg still slung over his shoulder, holding him in place and begging him not to leave yet wouldn’t let him.

     Absently, he thought of Barry and how smug he would be. Casey seemed to have the same idea because she sighed, long and irritated, as she squeezed his hand in hers.

     “We can’t tell Barry.”

     Dennis nodded, “He’ll be insufferable.”

     “‘ _ I knew it! _ ’” Casey imitated.

     Dennis snorted, “‘ _ I told ya so, didn’t I? I always know what’s gonna happen. _ ’”

     “ _ ‘You shoulda listened to me years ago, Babygirl!’ _ ”

     Dennis groaned in mock frustration before he realised what Casey had said, “Years ago?”

     “Oh… uh…”

     “Tell me.”

     She sighed again and threw an arm over her face, “It wasn’t the first notebook. I’m just better at it now.”

     “First… have you written a lot?”

     Casey nodded.

     “About what?”

     She wriggled beneath him, embarrassed and with a full body flush, “Barry never saw the names, but… same characters.”

     “Davis and Cathy?”

     She nodded.

     “Casey, how long have you—”

     “I plead the fifth.”

     A warmth Dennis had never known poisoned his blood and made him feverish. He pressed his smile into her stomach, ignoring the ticklish giggle she gave for it, and kissed her gently.

     “Will you show me?”

     She went quiet and shifted before replying: “Yes, but… I was hoping you’d help me write more of them.”

     “For me or for Larry?”

     Casey laughed, “For Larry. We’ll leave them around the place for him.”

* * *

 

In the deep, dark corners of Kevin’s mind where he had hidden himself to sleep, Barry woke with a start. He couldn’t explain it in his disoriented state, but it felt as though something terrible was happening; that something terrible  _ would  _ happen.

     Uneasy, he curled himself back up. He was imagining things, he decided, everything would be fine. There was nothing to worry about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was meant to be shameless smut but ? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


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